


Just Might Find 3

by helens78, Telesilla



Series: Just Might Find [6]
Category: Equilibrium (2002) RPF
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Dom/sub, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, The Establishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-12
Updated: 2005-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean and Bill have their first formal scene together.  And Sean finds out how much he likes being put on a leash again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Might Find 3

As if being half-hard for the last two days wasn't enough, this morning Sean woke up knowing he was going to have to get his cock into gates before leaving for the scene. It took a cold shower -- a very long, very cold shower -- to make that possible, and as soon as his cock was caught in all those rings and he was dressed, he was hard again. _Bloody hell._

But it's worth it to be following orders before the scene even starts, and by the time Sean gets to the hotel, he's nearly in headspace already. He has a valet park his car and goes to the front desk to have them ring Bill's room, and if he's squirming, at least the clerks here are understanding about it.

"Let me talk to him," Bill says to the concierge. "You're nice and prompt, boy," he says, once Sean's been given the phone. Before Sean can answer, Bill continues. "Strip, give the concierge your clothes, and follow her instructions."

"Yes, sir," Sean says, glad his voice doesn't squeak when he says it. "Thank you, sir."

He hands the phone back to the concierge and starts stripping down --another thing the employees won't blink at, thank God -- until he's got his clothes folded neatly and can hand the pile over. He's down to just the gates and his nipple rings, and he's starting to blush, color creeping down over his cheeks and just reaching the top of his chest. Bill's definitely not just like any other dom Sean's met in the last month, and that's a good thing.

"Hold out your right wrist, please," the concierge -- an attractive young woman with a brisk no-nonsense manner -- tells Sean. When he does, she puts a black padded cuff around his wrist, locking it closed with a small padlock. "You're to go to room 230; there will be a leash on the doorknob. Clip the leash to the cuff, kneel down, and wait for Mr. Fichtner." She pauses, waiting politely in case Sean wants to safeword.

"Yes, ma'am," Sean says, and then blinks, a bit tripped up by the instruction. "I'm to kneel down outside the door, leashed to the doorknob? Or am I supposed to go inside?"

"Kneel outside the room leashed to the doorknob," she says, smiling to let Sean know that he was right to ask for clarification. "Mr. Fichtner should be along shortly. I hope you have a very pleasant afternoon, Mr. Bean."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sean says. The gates are cutting into his cock now, but there's not much he can do about it, given how hard he is. The cuff feels heavy on his wrist -- a little heavier than it really is, probably -- and it's got him squirming even more than the gates, somehow, remembering the way Bill reached out and took hold of his wrist down at the pool.

He heads upstairs and finds the door without any difficulty, and exhales hard as he goes to his knees and clips his cuff to the leash. Now it's just a matter of waiting here, keeping himself from going insane from anticipation. Christ. Easier said than done.

Bill's phone rings again and he smiles broadly as the concierge tells him that Sean obeyed his instructions and is on his way to the room Bill booked for the day. After ending the conversation, Bill stretches a little and looks at the clock before going back to his laptop.

For the next fifteen minutes he idly looks at a couple of web pages the Establishment-vetted real estate agent recommended. Nothing really catches his eye and he's more than happy to close the computer, pick up a small duffel bag and head out of his room.

The time passes quickly for Sean; he's so caught up in thoughts of the last scene and wondering what Bill's got in mind for today that he doesn't even notice how long he's waiting. He hears footsteps once, and glances over to see if it's Bill, but that's definitely not him; the latex boots aren't bad to look at, though.

The second time footsteps come down the hall, though, Sean looks over and spots combat boots. Shiny ones. He doesn't even have to look up past the camo pants and the olive shirt to know it's Bill, but once his eyes have tracked all over the man's body it almost seems like it'd be impolite not to meet his eyes. Christ. Bill looks good today. "Good afternoon, sir," Sean murmurs.

"Good afternoon, boy," Bill says, looking down at Sean. _Fuck, but he looks great._ "When was the last time you came?" he asks, taking the leash in hand as he slides a keycard in the door's lock.

"Wednesday afternoon, sir," Sean says. That _leash_, Christ, it's in Bill's hand and Sean's whole body's focused on him now, wanting to be everything Bill wants him to be for this scene.

"Good boy," Bill says, pushing the door open. The room is starkly functional -- dark grey industrial carpet underfoot, light grey walls, steel racks of equipment, pitiless florescent lights -- and Bill nods his head approvingly. Giving Sean enough slack on the leash to crawl, he leads Sean into the room.

"Alright," Bill says, turning to look at Sean. "Kneel up and pay attention."

This time when Sean kneels up, he leaves his hands palms-up on his thighs. He can't stop staring at the leash, can't stop thinking about it, and while he knows he should be looking around the room and trying to figure out what it is they're going to do today, all he's thinking is that the cuff won't come off until Bill's damned good and ready for it to, and the leash is staying on until Bill wants to let him go. _This really isn't your show. It's his._ It's such a warm, welcome feeling that Sean's already feeling grateful, and they've barely gotten started.

Although Bill says nothing about it, he notes Sean's fascination with the leash and smiles to himself. "I know your safeword, but intend to push you a bit, so I want you to know that you can use 'yellow' if you need a break. I'm not going to demand formal voice, but you will call me sir. You can beg or make as much noise as you like, and I'm not going to demand stillness out of you." _This time._

"Any questions?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir." God. Clear boundaries and expectations. It's fantastic.

"Alright, then," Bill says, leaning in and ruffling Sean's hair, "let's get you up against the wall." He tugs on the leash, leading Sean to a wall set with a number of steel rings. "Stand up, back to the wall ... yeah, that's good." Once Sean's into position, Bill hooks the end of the leash to a nearby ring before moving back to the door to pick up his duffle bag.

Pulling out a cuff that matches the one Sean already wears, Bill quickly locks it on Sean's wrist and then -- leaving the leash still attached to the first cuff -- he clips the cuffs to a set of rings slightly above the level of Sean's head. Sean is left with his arms fully stretched out and Bill steps back and looks him over. "Any strain on your shoulders?"

"No, sir, I'm..." He's squirming too much to say he's comfortable, but it feels good, and he's ready for whatever it is Bill's got in mind. "I'm grateful," he murmurs. "Please, sir, let me serve you."

"You will," Bill promises, reaching into the bag again. He stands right in front of Sean and clips two ends of a Y-shaped chain onto Sean's nipple rings. The other end is clipped onto the end of the gates, and not only is there no slack on the chain, it's just a little too short, putting constant pressure on Sean's nipple.

Barely giving Sean time to get used to the chain, Bill presses in close, his hand reaching out to grasp the leash and hold it while he kisses Sean hard, his teeth working on Sean's lower lip before his tongue moves into Sean's mouth.

Sean moans into Bill's mouth, and he can't help squirming. The chain's pulling at him in all the right ways, both nipples teased and aching already, and oh _God_ the pull at the leash has him wanting to beg -- for what, he doesn't know, just anything, everything, anything Bill's willing to give him.

"Fuck, but you're a hot boy," Bill growls when he finally pulls away from Sean's mouth. He tugs on the chain and then steps back, moving over to the nearest rack of gear. "Now let's get you really hurting for me," he says, selecting a thin cane made of some sort of whippy plastic material. "No need to count, but if you want to make me happy, you'll make noise if you're hurting." The first strike of the cane lands sharply across Sean's thighs, leaving a thin red line across Sean's pale skin.

Sean's eyes close, and he groans, a hot, grateful sound coming out more breath than noise. "Christ, that's so good," he moans. "Thank you, sir."

Sean's words are good, but Bill really wants to hear some screaming. He's patient, though, and he lands the cane on Sean's thighs in a brisk rhythm, each blow just a little harder.

It takes a while for anything to have Sean screaming -- well, unless it's a heavy length of chain being laid into his thighs or arse, anyway. This is steady enough that before long Sean's crying out, and his hands are clenching into fists, and it takes him a minute to realize why he's holding his screams back. _Because you're always afraid the minute you start screaming it'll be over._ This time that's probably not going to be the case, he realizes, and he lets out the first scream when Bill lays the next stripe down, thighs burning from all those fucking perfect blows. "_Fuck!_ Thank you, sir," Sean pants once the scream's died down.

Oh, that sounds just fucking perfect, and Bill grins widely at Sean. "That's a good boy," he says, abruptly switching targets. The next blow lands on Sean's upper arm, and it's followed quickly by several more stinging hits, each placed carefully while Bill's gaze moves between Sean's arm and his face.

It's easier letting go of the screams now, and Sean's going to have bruises on his arm he can look at, bite at even while he's jerking off. "Christ, _fuck_, oh fuck, _thank you, sir,_" Sean pants out.

Once Bill's got both arms nicely marked up, he puts the cane down and moves in close again, pressing up against Sean in a way that will let Sean know just how much Bill's getting off on this. "You sound good screaming," he says before kissing Sean, his hand reaching for the leash.

Sean doesn't even have a chance to moan. He opens his mouth, gives over all control to Bill, stays in place and hopes it's clear just how eager he is for this, for both the pain and the sensation of being taken. Bill's cock is hard against Sean's thigh and he wants to offer everything he's got -- mouth, hands, arse, anything -- but he doesn't want the kiss to end, either, so he kisses back, following Bill's lead as much as possible.

"I'm going to hurt you more," Bill says, tugging on the leash just a little before reaching up to unhook the cuffs from the wall. "And I'm going to give you a choice here." He leans back a little to look Sean in the eye. "Do you want to be restrained for this or not?

Choice. That means Bill wants Sean to have an opinion, not just _whatever sir wants_. Sean takes a few breaths, tries to center. It works, but just barely. "I'd rather hold myself still for you, sir," he murmurs, "but if you want me restrained, I'd be happy to be tied down for you."

"Okay," Bill says, stepping back. "Turn around and face the wall," he orders, keeping hold of the leash. "Brace yourself as much as you think you'll need. If you start to fall once I get going, I'll restrain you." Once Sean's in position, he hooks the leash to a ring again, and this time it's where Sean can see it if he looks.

"Hold that pose," Bill says, picking a heavier cane off the rack. It's actually more of a rod, a half inch thick clear acrylic rod with a plain black handle and Bill taps Sean lightly on the ass with it to judge his swing. "This'll probably hurt," he says. Figuring that Sean's got plenty of endorphins pumping through his system, Bill lands a hard blow right across the middle of Sean's ass.

Oh, damn, yes, it hurts, and Sean's hands flatten against the wall, but he doesn't fall. He does scream -- couldn't avoid screaming if he tried -- but he's determined not to fall after just one. "God, _fuck_, thank you, sir," he pants.

"I like a good strong boy," Bill says, leaning in to press at the mark -- a set of very dark red double lines --- on Sean's ass. "You're impressing me." As he bends and bites as Sean's shoulder, he wonders if that sounds like he's simply saying it for the sake of reassuring Sean, but no, he did tell Sean that he wasn't in the habit of offering praise where it wasn't deserved.

"Let's see about marking you up some more." With that Bill backs off and begins carefully beating Sean with the rod, keeping his blows restricted to Sean's ass and upper thighs.

Sometimes Sean screams. Sometimes it's a matter of gasping, panted breaths. Sometimes his eyes shut, and sometimes he manages to keep them open, even though there's nothing to see. It's about as pure and hard as pain's been for Sean, and it's not for punishment or to jog Sean's thoughts out of order or for any reason other than Sean needs to hurt and Bill needs to hurt him. And that's fucking _gorgeous_.

Fucking gorgeous would be the way Bill would describe Sean's responses. Each noise, whether scream or gasp, is perfect, getting down under Bill's skin and making him want to hear more, hurt Sean more. As always, he's aware of the damage, aware that he's pushing Sean hard, but he's also able to let go some, able to trust Sean enough to concentrate on the joy of giving pain to someone who wants to hurt.

Sean's breath stutters as the pain builds, and while he can take one hell of a lot, he's still got limits. Right now he wants more, but he's going to have trouble holding himself upright for too much longer if he has to do it on his own. "Sir -- _please_," Sean pants out.

"What is it, boy?" Bill asks, lowering the rod and moving in to rest a hand lightly on the small of Sean's back.

The touch feels wonderful, connected and warm, and Sean shivers under it. "I don't think I can hold myself up much longer, sir," Sean whispers. "May I ask for restraints now? Please?"

Something about the shiver moves Bill as much -- if not more -- as Sean's earlier screams. "Will you take more?" he asks, stroking Sean's lower back. Although he trusts Sean, he knows that, caught up in the moment, people sometimes don't pause to listen to their bodies.

"Please, sir, _yes_, I want to take more for you," Sean breathes. The way Bill's touching him goes straight to his cock -- _want, Christ, yes, please_ \-- and the feeling that he can trust Bill to take care of him, to watch out for him while he's hurting him, has him settled and steady. "Please let me hurt more for you, sir," Sean murmurs. "Please?"

There are better things than having a boy beg to hurt more, but right now Bill would be hard pressed to list them. "That's a good boy," he says, stopping himself just in time from calling Sean "my boy." In a way, he thinks as he steps away from Sean after another caress to Sean's back, Sean is his boy, if just for this scene.

A moment later, he's got Sean cuffed to the wall again, this time using two stout lengths of rope with enough slack to give Sean something to hang on to. With one last tug on the leash, Bill steps back and takes up the rod again. With a deep breath, he resumes the beating, this time leaving a longer pause in between blows. To make up for it, he hits harder, each blow slamming into Sean's body, the marks rising up almost instantly.

It'd be overstating matters to say Sean can feel the marks already, but he can feel every blow, every single one of them distinct and sharp and given to him because Bill asked -- because he can take them -- because he _wants_ to take them, and it's something they can share, walk into _together_. It's so good it's got Sean tasting something electric in the back of his mouth, something that says _this is what it's supposed to be like_ under the blows. He's damned if he knows what _this_ is -- what in hell he's looking for, let alone what he's finding -- but it's a fucking good scene and he's grateful to have the chance to scream his lungs out and feel pain given by someone who knows damned good and well what he's doing. And that's more than enough thinking and figuring for one day; Sean stops and just sinks into what he's feeling, the pain from the rod driven against him, his cock heavy between his legs, his arms cuffed safely and his fingers curled around rope. _Oh, goddamn, this is good._

It's not Bill's plan to beat Sean to the point where he safewords --_although I'd love to negotiate a scene where I do just that_ \--and so he begins to ramp down again, still making sure the blows land with some strength. And in truth, he doesn't have to hit Sean as hard now; Sean's bruised to the point where even lighter blows will still hurt like hell. _For that matter, just fucking him will hurt like holy hell._

And that thought makes Bill finally stop, putting the rod down before he moves to Sean again. "Fucking gorgeous," he says, running a hand firmly over Sean's bruised ass. "I'm going to fuck you now," he adds, pulling lube and a condom out of his pants pocket.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, _please_," Sean pants, "please, sir, please fuck me--" His wrists tug at his cuffs, more than anything because it feels good to struggle. And just hearing that Bill's ready to fuck him has Sean wanting it more than anything. "_Please._"

Sean's tight, and Bill can't help a little groan of anticipation as he works a couple of lubed fingers into Sean's hole. As he twists them carefully, he leans in and licks at the back of Sean's neck before biting at it.

"_Fuck!_" Sean nearly jerks backward into Bill -- it's not a sensitive spot for nothing, and between Bill's fingers and that lick against his neck, he's almost shivering with wanting it so badly. "Oh, fuck, please -- please, want it so much, please..."

"You just think you want it," Bill murmurs, leaning forward so his breath is warm on Sean's ear. "Maybe sometime I'll tease you for hours," he adds, working a third finger into Sean's ass. "Make you want it so much your voice goes hoarse from begging."

Sean just whimpers. "Yes -- please -- _anything_ \-- sir, please just use me, please, anything you want -- begging, please, oh God."

_Anything I want?_ Bills not sure what to make of that and so he files it away for later contemplation. "Right now," he says, after a bite to Sean's earlobe, "I want to fuck you." It's a matter of seconds to get the condom on and then, just before he's about to push in, he glances at the leash. "Don't forget about this," he says, unhooking it and draping it across Sean's shoulder.

It's possible the leash might have slipped Sean's mind without the reminder, but now? Christ, now it's fighting for first place in Sean's thoughts along with just how badly he wants to be fucked. He's not going to think about why it feels so damned good having the leash brushing against his skin. He just wants Bill to fuck him, take him, use him -- _please, God, need, want, please._

Some other time, Bill might have had Sean hold the leash between his teeth, but right now, he wants to hear what Sean sounds like when he's in pain and being fucked. With that in mind, he pushes in with one hard thrust and then holds position, his body pressed up against Sean's.

Sean lets out another scream, but this time it's out of sheer relief. He's so ready for this he's amazed he isn't just coming now. It'd be easy -- the right word, the right touch, hell, a breath in the right place and he could come. And Sean feels greedy, eaten up with wanting more, more of Bill's cock, more of the way it feels when Bill's hips rub up against Sean's ass, more _everything_.

Bill finds himself wishing he'd gotten naked first; he'd like to feel the heat coming off Sean's skin against him, but that can wait. Because, he thinks as he begins to fuck Sean as slowly as he can manage, there will be another scene.

The pace doesn't feel like a tease to Sean, even though it's going to drive him fucking insane. It feels like the pleasure's being drawn out as long as possible. And it feels like it'd be safe to go insane with Bill here. _Dear fucking Christ, this is so good._

"God," Bill mutters through clenched teeth. He wants to be slow about this, to pay attention to each little noise Sean makes, to see how long he can last being buried in the tight heat of Sean's ass. But it's not easy to resist the urge to just pound into Sean, and Bill leans forward and bites down hard on Sean's shoulder in an attempt to distract himself a little.

Sean cries out and immediately bites down hard on his lower lip -- not to hold the sound in but because that bite on top of being fucked this way has him far too close to coming. _Not yet. God, not yet, you can't, don't even think about it, not yet._

Sean's muffled cry intrigues Bill, but it doesn't cause him to stop biting on Sean's shoulder. _How close are you? What would it take to get you to come without permission?_ Bill's not all that wild about pushing a sub to make mistakes, but he also likes to know where a boy's limits are. _Some other time,_ he thinks as he gives up on fucking Sean slowly, finally pulling his teeth away from Sean's skin. Grabbing Sean's hips, he slams in with short hard thrusts, groaning loudly.

"Oh, please, oh God, please, please, I -- sir, please, need to come so badly, please, _begging_, please let me, sir, please," Sean pants. He's going to go insane. He's going to go out of his mind with Bill's hands on his hips and his cock driving into him and the leash hanging down on his shoulder and _oh God_ this is so good he can taste it.

"Wait," Bill says sharply. "Wait." He's damn close himself, and Sean's begging is not helping much. He wonders vaguely what it would be like to fuck Sean when he wasn't feeling so urgent, but most of his mind is taken up in the moment. "Fuck," he grunts when it's finally too much. "Oh fuck...." And with that, he's slamming into Sean one last time before coming.

If the begging was less than dignified, the whimpering sound Sean lets out as Bill comes is even worse. But he can't help it. He's so hard his cock's dripping, leaving smears across the wall, and he's almost lightheaded from wanting to come so badly. But he stays quiet while Bill recovers, knowing full well that if he doesn't get to come then he'll still be grateful for every minute of this scene. Christ, Bill's _good_.

After leaning against Sean long enough to catch his breath, Bill reaches up and unties the cuffs from the wall, leaving them on Sean's wrists for now. "Turn around," he says with a little tug on the leash.

Sean doesn't even have enough voice to say _yes, sir_; he turns around, lets Bill guide him into place.

Looping his finger through the chain connecting Sean's nipple rings to the gates, Bill tugs just a little. "Can you come from this?" he asks. "Just because I tell you to and because I'm hurting you?"

That tug makes Sean scream again, and he chokes it off as fast as he can to give Bill an answer. "Yes, sir," he pants, not even thinking about how much it's going to hurt coming with those gates on, "yes, please, let me come for you, _please_, sir!"

"Wait," Bill says, reaching for the leash. "Now," he says, tugging hard on the chain while holding the leash tightly in his other hand. "Give it to me now, boy."

Christ -- holding back hurt, and coming is torture, and Sean can feel that tug through his nipples and against his cock and he loves every aching moment of it. "_Oh fucking hell so good--_" Panting hard, Sean slumps against the wall, then winces and straightens up again to give the chain as much slack as possible. "Thank you," he gasps, "thank you, sir."

"You earned it, boy," he says, leaning forward to unhook the chain from Sean's nipple rings. He reaches down and gets his fingers wet with Sean's come and then holds them up to Sean's mouth.

"_Mmmm._" Sean sucks Bill's fingers into his mouth, licking his come up greedily and curling his tongue around Bill's fingers.

"You look good licking up your own come," Bill says as he carefully unclips the chain from the end of the gates. "This may be a little uncomfortable," he warns as he begins to unbuckle the gates. "Of course, uncomfortable is all relative, isn't it?"

It takes a few seconds for Sean to answer between the grunts as the gates come off. "Feels -- _nn_ \-- uncomfortable the right way, sir. Like I took a lot for you." He grins, but just a little; it's almost a shy smile, which seems funny after getting fucked that hard and coming from pain and orders.

"You took a hell of a lot for me," Bill says, putting the gates down on the floor. "I'm damn impressed." He moves in close and kisses Sean, one hand resting on the back of Sean's neck.

Sean knows he's being forward as hell, but he can't help it. He moans and rubs up and just sinks into the kiss, not quite clinging as hard as he did the last time, but clearly he's not in any rush to stop touching Bill, to have Bill stop touching him. _Impressed._ Bill's a fantastic top and Sean managed to impress him. It feels amazing.

Bill's fingers go a little tighter on Sean's neck, and it comes as a bit of a shock to realize just how much he's hoping Sean will want to do this again. Three scenes in quick succession tends to run up against the limit of what Bill considers a casual relationship, and he wonders if Sean, coming off such a recent divorce, will want to do anything more formal.

"How are you doing, boy?" he asks, once he pulls back. "There's a room with a nice bed and a bath behind that door over there," he continues, pointing to a door on the far side of the room. "Figured you might not want to go too far before collapsing."

"That sounds perfect, sir," Sean says, leaning in to steal one last nuzzle before pulling back, too. "And I'm feeling good -- really good -- though I'm going to start getting damn sore pretty soon. Christ, sir, but you hit hard. Thank you for that."

"Any time," Bill says, taking up the leash. "You need a shoulder to lean on?" he asks, not sure if Sean's still flying on endorphins.

"Yes, please," Sean says. _Need_ may be pushing it, but he's damned if he's going to turn down a shoulder when one's been offered. And his eyes keep going back to that leash. It's the first time he's had one on his wrist, and he didn't expect to like it as much as he does, but... it's nice. It's very, very nice, and he's not going to think too hard about why he's been responding to it this way.

Slinging an arm around Sean's waist, Bill helps him to the other room, letting Sean set the pace. "This was good," he says. "Damn good. How would you feel about doing it again sometime?"

Sean chuckles. "Like begging for it the minute you'd let me. This _was_ good, sir. I'd love to do it again."

"Great," Bill says, settling Sean down on the bed and then sitting down next to him so he can take off his boots. "How do you feel about roleplay?" he asks, the boots giving him an idea.

"Love roleplay," Sean says, wincing as he stretches out. _Oh, God, that's going to ache beautifully in the morning._ "Just about any kind of roleplay, sir. I've done half my movie roles, the ones that lend well to it, anyway. Did you have something in mind?"

"Hmmm," Bill says, stripping off the rest of his clothes before sliding into bed with Sean. He pulls the blanket up over them both and grins at Sean. "The camo stuff made me think about an interrogation scene or something like that."

It's a good thing Sean's physically incapable of getting hard again this fast; it'd hurt like hell. "Where do I volunteer?" he asks, grinning as he curls up close. Bill hasn't seemed to mind yet, and Sean's starved for affection and not afraid to take it if he thinks he can get it.

Shifting so that Sean can be comfortable, Bill idly strokes Sean's shoulder. "What's your schedule look like? I imagine you'll want some of these bruises to die down a bit." He chuckles. "I intend to leave even more marks on you."

"Oh, God, sir, that sounds good," Sean says. "My schedule's open. I wouldn't mind some time for recovery, but if you'd rather play sooner, we could always build my bruises into the scene. Maybe I've been under interrogation for a while and you've got some bruises to play with."

"You know," Bill says with a smile. "I like the way you think." He pauses a little, just enjoying the feeling that comes after a good scene like this. "How are you with humiliation?"

"Touchy right now," Sean admits. "I'm all right with crawling, begging, licking boots, rough treatment. I have a button around the word 'worthless' and there might be other triggers in there that I haven't felt out yet. Think it comes from my marriage falling apart -- I'm second-guessing myself enough on my own; it hurts getting the same kind of accusations in a scene."

"Makes perfect sense," Bill says. "Well, I was thinking of the kinds of humiliations that come with interrogations. I'll do my damnedest not to call your worth into question." He looks at Sean very seriously. "You're very good at this; any top in his right mind would be happy to work with you."

"I think I can handle that sort of territory, sir," Sean says. "And... thank you. You're bloody good at this, too, and it means a lot to know you're coming away from this pleased with me."

"Very pleased, boy," Bill says with a slight tug on the leash. "I wasn't sure how long you'd want to stay, but if you'd like to rest some, we can have something sent up for dinner later."

Sean's eyes zero in on the leash, and he squirms just a little. "I'd like that very much, sir," he murmurs.

"Good," Bill replies, equally quietly, already trying to figure out how to work the leash into an interrogation scene. "Go ahead and relax," he adds, pulling Sean a little closer.

It's one of the easiest orders Sean's gotten in a while. He curls up close and closes his eyes, glad to be here.

_-end-_


End file.
